Chameleon

Every effort was futile. The tree stood tall and stiff, a paltry few leaves rattled when the wind whipped through its recesses... but it was never enough. Each leaf was a reminder of how life had come and left. There was such an impulse to rake my nails across the bark and pull the leaves from their seemingly permanent stronghold. The withered evidence had to be eliminated. It had to be allowed the option to decompose and support new life. But instead it only clattered together like a legion of brittle bones, expressing intolerable woe. They had to be vanquished, silenced; they needed to be thrust aside and shown that their reign was over.

But instead I stood and watched, apathetic as any stone statue, impenetrable as the greatest, tallest tower of subconscious ever encountered. There are times I worry, anticipate that every motive I've possessed over the past year will only bury me deeper in this grave. I'm being buried alive, but there's no bell for me to ring. The coffin is nailed tight; I'm no Black Mamba, how am supposed to dig myself out of my own grave? Who will care that I'm dying if no one knows?

It's cold outside but for the second time in my life I couldn't care less. The snow was beautiful, but I didn't notice. Something inside told me to lie down in the snow and go to sleep so when I woke up I'd be in a new reality. Something else told me to keep walking. Apparently my legs obliged to the latter. I don't care about conformity, or whether I'm emo, angst, or just another dumb-ass teenager who doesn't know what the fuck they're talking about. I've grown beyond the point of caring anymore.

The first tear of the year fell from my oblivious eye. My cheek hurt for supporting it. Why did it come? Was I a drama-sick retard even without a swell of alcohol? I can't lie to you. Every smile you see has honesty in it. My eyes don't lie. You see them for longer than seven minutes without being distorted by a smile and you know something is wrong.

Something was wrong.

I went inside and shut the door. I took my shoes off and went upstairs. I stripped to my jamies and got into bed. I tried to be apathetic and it was difficult. The first tear had fallen and the others wanted to follow. But I wouldn't allow them. I conquered. I always obliterate it before anyone can see it ensnare me.

The leaves still clattered together outside. I'd laugh at them tomorrow to distort my eyes. I would show them that guileless youth is still inside of me and that they could not defeat me with their perpetual insensitivity. I'm past the tantrum-years and angry sobs for futile things.

I won't allow myself to be a sober drama queen.